Chapter3

As he turned away, the hem of his coat brushed against the back of my hand.

It was ice-cold.

Downstairs, an engine roared to life. The headlights swept across the curtains before quickly fading into the distance.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the carpet.

"Ma'am, if you please."

Two bodyguards grabbed me by the arms, one on each side, and violently dragged me down the basement steps.

By the ice pool, Noah had already been strung back up.

Seeing me, he forced a weak twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Sis, I'm fine."

His voice was so hoarse it was nothing more than a breathy whisper.

His legs were crippled entirely because of me.

When I was fifteen, my father racked up massive gambling debts, and the loan sharks threw Molotov cocktails through our windows.

Noah shoved me out of the second-story window, but he didn't have time to jump himself.

A burning structural beam collapsed, pinning him right across the waist.

Later, when I married into the Caruso family, Dante held Noah's hand the night before the wedding and made a vow.

"Your sister's family is my family."

"From now on, if anyone dares to lay a single finger on you, I'll chop their hand off."

Noah was eighteen that year. He sat in his wheelchair and cried like a child.

It had only been two years.

I fumbled for my phone and sent messages to Dante, one after another.

[Please, make them stop.]

[It's my fault. Take it out on me.]

[He was just in the water for ten minutes the day before yesterday. He can't survive seven minutes.]

[Dante, he is the only family I have left.]

The screen stayed lit.

Not a single reply came through.

"Time's up, ma'am."

A bodyguard held up his phone, aiming the camera directly at the pool.

The rope snapped loose.

I lunged forward, but someone pinned me down heavily from behind, pressing my cheek against the damp, freezing concrete floor.

At one minute, Noah was still thrashing.

At three minutes, he gripped the thick iron chains by the edge of the pool, his knuckles turning dead white.

At five minutes, his hands let go.

I screamed until the metallic taste of blood entirely coated my throat, but the heavy hands pinning me down didn't budge a single inch.

Seven minutes and twelve seconds.

When the rope finally reeled back up, Noah hung as limp as a soaked, heavy piece of old clothing.

I fought off the bodyguards, dragged myself over, and desperately cradled his face.

"Noah, open your eyes. Look at your sister..."

The estate's doctor dropped to his knees beside him. Chest compressions, an adrenaline injection, more compressions.

Noah's chest was pressed down violently, springing back up over and over again.

I didn't know how much time passed before the doctor finally straightened up and stripped off his latex gloves.

"Ma'am, he has gone to heaven."

I heard every single word he said.

But strung together, they made absolutely no sense to me.

The phone in my pocket vibrated.

On the family's internal network, Marco had just sent out a mass notification to everyone.

[Miss Valeria has awakened. The boss is hosting a banquet in the main hall tonight. Everyone is requested to attend.]

Attached below was a photo.

Beside a hospital bed, Dante held a bowl of soup, patiently blowing on every single spoonful before feeding it gently to Valeria's lips.

I had only ever seen that kind of profound patience during the first few months of my pregnancy.

I clicked on the photo's timestamp.

10:04 PM.

Noah was dropped into the freezing water at exactly 11:00 PM.

She had already been awake for nearly an hour.

The rule he set was until she wakes up.

He hadn't replied to me.

Not a single message.

I laid Noah down gently and walked up the basement stairs, step by deadened step.

The heavy doors to the main hall were left slightly ajar. Inside, the room was packed with the ranking members of the crime family.

Valeria sat in a wheelchair, her wrists wrapped in thick gauze, leaning intimately against Dante's side.

"Dante, Marco told me everything... about everything you did just to wake me up..."

She lowered her eyes, her voice soft and fragile.

"I don't want Chloe to misunderstand. Once I recover a bit, I'll go back to Palermo."

"Why would you leave?"

Dante reached out and firmly grasped her bandaged hand.

"When she gives birth, we'll hand the child over for you to raise."

"I'll compensate you for the one you lost."

Through the crack in the door, every single word he spoke was dead serious.

The same man who had once dropped to one knee in front of me, anxiously measuring a tiny pair of baby shoes against my stomach over and over again.

He was going to give my child to her.

I pushed the heavy doors open and walked straight in.

I was drenched in water from the basement, leaving a dark, wet footprint with every single step.

The entire grand hall fell dead silent.

"Dante, there's no need to compensate her. That child is already—"

Before I could even finish the sentence, Dante stood up abruptly, ripped off his trench coat, and viciously threw it right at my stomach.

"Cover it up!"

"You actually dare to flaunt your stomach right in front of Valeria?"

"Chloe, do you want Noah to go back into that water again tonight?!"

The heavy coat slid off my shoulders and pooled at my feet.

I stepped right over it and kept walking forward.

Dante blocked the space in front of the wheelchair, his eyes harboring barely suppressed rage.

"I owe her my life."

"That bullet was meant for me, and she took it for me. That was the day she lost her baby."

"You can't even tolerate this much?"

He turned his head slightly, raising a subtle hand toward the bodyguards by the door.

I stood on top of his fallen trench coat and stared dead at him.

He said Noah's name.

He was still using Noah to threaten me.

A sudden, hollow laugh actually slipped past my lips.

"Dante, let's get a divorce."